Demons

Big Fishes Carnival at The Lake - Demons

“This is a lie, right?”

We had been spending days together, with good and bad circulating much like Yin and Yang. We went through hell, enjoyed ourselves in paradise, and although futile, the hope of those times to last forever still coated this little heart of mine.

I could never mistake the memory of me flying high, into the blue of the unreachable before the world pulls me back down, where he would be there, smiling as he caught me, as if a bag of gold had just fallen from the clouds. I would be giggling then, pleading to have another try at reaching the place where the winds belong. Nor could I mistake the oceans of stars that he pulls closer to me by swinging me up high, just like in the day yet pleasingly distinct.

“I can’t believe this. You just.. can’t..” my mutterings continued.

A painting that was hung on the wall, precious albeit deformed, was another proof of his kindness. It was, for the twelve-year-old me, a drawing to be proud of, and when the others laughed at my effort, he was again there, his chest open for me to cry on. What about that? Was that just a lie? Was his caring hands carressing my hair as my tears fall for the sake of easing my pain, too good a lie it could comfort me?

“Honey, honey, listen to me...” he pleaded, with those green eyes that saw me grow.

How about Christmas, like this one? The falling white was always fascinating with those glittering, mesmerizing colours of merry and joy. For me, all these excitement were impossible without him taking me to wherever I want, without any questions nor suggestions on his part. He would be laughing to the radio, much like the much-anticipated Santa, as it began the countdown to the twenty fifth, and I’ll be saying the same thing over and over again: that he laughed like an old man. Those were times when I felt most comfortable, most joyous, and we did it every year. Whose sake is his taking us to the town during Christmas for?

“Now, look into my eyes –“

As I tried to listen to him, I wanted to once again attempt to figure out how did all these happened. It was the usual, Chistmas under the big tree in town, with me holding his hands, and then us marvelling how the world can shine so bright and so iridescent. I was just mentioning a friend of mine, that for some reason gave me a flower eariler and asked me to be his girlfriend – I didn’t mention that I wanted to refuse though. From there, us – or rather, he – started acting weird. As to why I felt so, I was about to be reminded as I looked up to him – to his eyes.

“ – it’s where my demons hide..”

And I saw it – his green eyes that had been missing something since the first time we met, now back to him. It was captivating, his eyes, but I knew that he meant more than that.

It was the eyes of the lovestruck.

The two hands that were previously holding his, now moved to cover my mouth that was wide open due to shock. It was the eyes of a man seeing the love of his life, the woman whose hands he wanted to hold during betrothal.

“Don’t... get too close..” and he averted his eyes.

As I fell to my knees, the obvious reality had been made clear to myself, as crystal clear as the tears flowing through my cheeks yet no longer through his chest, the reason why he was acting weird. The reason why he bought an unusually expensive ring on impulse, the reason he was looking for quiet place without anyone else, the reason he pushed me against the wall, and moved on to approach my lips, it all boiled down to this.

For a moment I was conflicted. Should I have just accepted him then? Should I just stand still as the savior of my life take his toll to the love of his life?

As the police finally dragged him away from me, perhaps for good, I couldn’t think of anything else but our first encounter. He was the one – back then he was around twenty five – who helped me escape the “orphanage”, the kind that enslave the childern that would have nowhere else to go anyway. At that point of time, which is around ten years ago, he had the same look as he did just now. It was just too vague for the young me to understand.

The police siren was fading away as I drew myself back to reality. I had lost him. Despite the cold, and the young snowstorm, my legs moved on their own, trying to get closer to the moving car of black and white. When the hope of chasing it had gone, the only think on my mind was to stretch my arm to it, imagining him trying to reach the same arm from where he was, as I took a deep, painfully cold breath to yell,

“Dad!”